The Neurocritic

Saturday, August 19, 2017

The use of smell as a weapon, or a deterrent, was explored in a fanciful way in my previous post on nuclear threats. While poking around the literature, I found a fascinating unclassified document from the Army Research Laboratory, Olfaction Warfare: Odor as Sword and Shield (PDF). The authors provide a sweeping overview of odor, from chemical tactics in the natural world to the use of scents in the beauty and entertainment industries. The primary military application discussed by Schmeisser et al. (2013) is the use of odor in stealth operations. These are designed to deceive the enemy by masking current location or projecting smells to a false location. Although the document does not propose putrid odor as an offensive weapon, the authors discuss the history of such efforts.

Stink Bombs

Stink bombs are “devices designed to create an unpleasant smell forcing people to leave an area or protecting off-limits areas against being entered.”

One unsavory application during WWII was used to make German officers smell like rotten meat, but unfortunately, “this substance was so volatile that it could not be confined to specific targets and contaminated everything in the area.”

Another unsuccessful project from 1966 tried to develop “culturally specific stink bombs, which would affect Vietnamese guerillas, leaving the U.S. troops unaffected. The project was abandoned due to technical barriers.”

But a more contemporary program reached the pinnacle of olfactory deterrence:

In 2001 the U.S. announced the development of the ultimate stink bomb aimed at driving away hostile forces by a stench so foul that it results not only in disgust or aversion but also fear. The odorant used in the bomb has been developed by a team of researchers led by Dr. Pamela Dalton at the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia and is a mixture of two agents: the U.S. Government Standard Bathroom Malodor (a mixture of eight chemicals with a stench similar to human feces but much stronger) and the Who-Me?, a sulphur-based odorant that smells like rotting carcasses...

The cards had 10 numbered spots (1.roses, 2.flatulence, 3.model airplane glue, 4.pizza, 5.gasoline, 6.skunk, 7.natural gas, 8.new car smell, 9.dirty shoes, and 10.air freshener) that the audience scratched and sniffed when the appropriate number flushed at the corner of the screen. This system, called Odorama, solved the problem with hanging odors that was the main problem of the early smell-distributing systems.

Waters' Odorama succeeded where the older scent distributions systems had failed. Smell-O-Vision (1939) and AromaRama (1959) were financial disasters for movie theaters, because “the odors were weak, the smells persisted longer than was desired, and the molecules were distributed by noisy systems.”

OloramaTM

Present day technology for odor delivery has advanced beyond scratch-and-sniff, of course, and Olorama offers an enhanced cinematic experience (“the smells jump off the screen”). The kits feature “very compact, hidden aromatization devices that are installed under seats (1 device for every 5-7 seats, depending on their size).”

They also sell a product for home use. Olfactory enhancement of virtual reality is not a new development, but this VR system looks stylish, at the very least.

Sunday, August 13, 2017

A military aide carries the “nuclear football” aboard the Marine One helicopter in which President Trump was waiting to depart the South Lawn of the White House on Feb. 3. (Michael Reynolds/European Pressphoto Agency). via Washington Post.

“North Korea best not make any more threats to the United States. They will be met with fire and fury like the world has never seen... he has been very threatening beyond a normal state[ment]. They will be met with fire, fury and frankly power the likes of which this world has never seen before.” (video)

Issuing a threat of nuclear war is not something to cheer about (“We're number one! We're number one!”). Jesus does not condone such an action, despite what pastor Robert Jeffress says.

“The mixture of foreign policy, golf and veiled threats about nuclear war is unprecedented and jarring,” said BBC reporter Tara McKelvey.

I would like to think that most Americans are horrified by the prospect of nuclear war. But many are pleased with the blunt, bracing talk and feel “protected by the vastness of America” — “It doesn’t concern me,” said [a guy] at the Morgan County Fair in Brush, Colo. “We live in the safest part of the whole country.”

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!! I shout to myself.1 The people interviewed for that article were between the ages of 45 and 76 (mean = 64.5 yrs), so they were all alive during the Cold War and probably watched The Day After on TV (now on YouTube). Mushroom clouds, incineration, radiation sickness, utter devastation. In Kansas. The apocalyptic wasteland of suffering encouraged by a younger generation of trolls immune to actual footage of melting bodies and acute radiation syndrome.

Olfactory VR

The callous Gamergate set requires a more visceral and disgusting approach to the gravity of the Trump-Kim Jong-un escalation. My near-future sci-fi solution to nuclear trolling would involve delivering odorants that carry the stench of death (e.g., cadaverine, putrescine) each and every time these jokers spread anxiety and discord. This would require immersive virtual reality (or some preposterous way to deliver odorants via smart phone) and real-time monitoring of social media streams for key phrases. Exposure to the nauseating, inescapable smell of rotting flesh might be punishing enough to initiate a change in behavior...

...but this could ultimately backfire in the event of an actual Zombie Apocalypse, because they would be protected from the marauding undead hoards. And that's not what we want.

Today, the younger generations that will determine our future did not experience terrifying emotions as part of their nuclear education. For them, the gigantic mutant ants and degenerate war survivors that stalk the memories of their grandparents are obvious myths, evoking only the kind of ironic amusement that young people find in video games, TV shows and superhero movies. These post-Cold War generations should therefore be more ready than their elders to face nuclear missiles dispassionately, not as supernatural prodigies but as plain machinery.

About Me

Born in West Virginia in 1980, The Neurocritic embarked upon a roadtrip across America at the age of thirteen with his mother. She abandoned him when they reached San Francisco and The Neurocritic descended into a spiral of drug abuse and prostitution. At fifteen, The Neurocritic's psychiatrist encouraged him to start writing as a form of therapy.